


Putting Down Roots

by RemingtonFae, Waffilicious



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Get the Avengers a therapist 2k17, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemingtonFae/pseuds/RemingtonFae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waffilicious/pseuds/Waffilicious
Summary: Free from Hydra, Bucky moves into Avengers Tower and begins the hard work of rediscovering peace and happiness. With the help of his new friends, a new therapist, and a new hobby, Bucky starts down the right road.





	Putting Down Roots

**Author's Note:**

> MANY MANY THANKS to Remi and her amazing art for the Cap RBB which inspired this fic! She also had great input, it was really fun working with her. 
> 
> Also SUPER ENORMOUS THANKS to Chad (aka [silentwalrus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentwalrus/pseuds/silentwalrus)) for the beta!
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at [waffilicious,](http://waffilicious.tumblr.com/) Remi is [needmorefiction,](https://needmorefiction.tumblr.com) and Chad is [silentwalrus1.](https://silentwalrus1.tumblr.com/) Come say hi!

“Well, here we are,” Steve said, spreading his arms wide and looking sheepish.

Bucky stared around him. When Steve had invited him to share his apartment in Tony’s building, claiming it was too big for him, Bucky had been imagining something maybe twice the size of their tiny tenement abode back before the war.

But no.

“It’s the whole floor,” Bucky said, unwilling to really believe what he was seeing.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, running a hand through his hair and shifting his weight in an obvious show of discomfort. “Tony kind of insisted after he saw the place I was looking at--and he’s been trying to convince all the others to move in too. I think he’s lonely.”

“So he gives everyone their own floor?” Bucky started walking around slowly, noticing how empty it felt. There was furniture and art on the walls, but Steve hadn’t put any personal touches anywhere. It felt like a showroom. There were small signs a person lived there--dishes in the sink, a coat thrown over a couch, books on the living room table--but it could’ve been anyone. Steve lived there, but it wasn’t his home.

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty ridiculous.” When Bucky turned to look at Steve, he could tell that Steve was only just realizing how sterile it was. He was looking around with a furrowed brow like he was seeing it for the first time.

Bucky let out a soft hum, but didn’t comment further. Stark’s problems were his own, and Steve definitely had some issues, but Bucky knew that he wouldn’t want anyone gossiping about his own difficulties, so he chose to extend the same courtesy to Stark. Though it was probably a good idea to have a talk with Steve at some point. 

Not that Bucky had any idea what he’d say.

He let Steve take him on a tour of the place. It was enormous, and the partially open floor plan wasn’t helping to diminish the sense of size. The huge kitchen looked out into a giant dining room which flowed into an immense living room. There were two massive bedrooms, each with its own equally luxurious bathroom; a room Steve was ostensibly using as a studio and study but had mostly empty bookshelves, a desk with hardly anything on it, an easel with a blank canvas, and a corner room that Bucky stopped dead in as soon as he stepped through the door.

There was nothing in it, but that wasn’t what shocked him. The whole apartment had giant windows looking out on the city, but this room took the fucking cake. Two walls were entirely glass, floor to ceiling, and the evening sunlight filled the whole room with a beautiful soft orange-red glow.

Steve smiled at Bucky, though Bucky hardly noticed. “Yeah, the room’s great, gets perfect sun all day long. It’s always so warm, though--I just couldn’t figure out what to use it for. It’s too warm to be a studio, really, it actually gets kind of uncomfortable sitting and drawing in here, so I went with the other room for that. If you’ve got any ideas, the room is yours.”

Bucky stepped out further onto the hardwood floor and closed his eyes. It felt like stepping into a warm bath. He basked in the sunlight and felt his clamoring thoughts melt away into silence.

It was perfect.

For what, he didn’t know. 

“I’ll think of something,” he said softly, and damn, he could _hear_ the smile in Steve’s voice when he answered.

“Okay, Buck. I’m gonna go see about dinner, you get settled however you want.”

Bucky didn’t move or open his eyes, just listened to Steve walk out and shut the door behind him. He turned his face to the sun.

 

As the days passed, Bucky struggled to find a routine. Steve kept trying to convince him he didn’t need one, but after the fourth attempt ended in Bucky glaring from over his mug of coffee, Steve dropped the subject. The problem was, he didn’t have enough to do that felt meaningful, or necessary, or important.

Bucky’s schedule looked like this:  
8:00am Wake up, dress, bathroom  
8:10-8:40 Breakfast  
8:40-9:00 Clean up from breakfast  
9:00-11:00 Work out  
11:00-11:40 Lunch  
11:40-12:00 Clean up from lunch  
12:00-12:30 Shower, dress  
12:30-5:00 ????????  
5:00-7:00 Make and eat dinner with Steve  
7:00-7:20 Clean up from dinner  
7:20-10:20 Movies/books/hangout with Steve  
10:20-10:30 Bathroom and dress for bed  
10:30 Bedtime.

It was that afternoon block that was causing all the trouble. The first few days, Bucky had explored the tower, but it took almost no time at all before he was already becoming intimately familiar with areas he realized he probably shouldn’t be in. At all. Which was made abundantly clear one day when the resident AI commented on the proceedings.

“Sergeant Barnes,” it--he?--gently said.

“Yes, JARVIS?” Bucky said from wedged in the corner of a ventilation shaft, peering into Stark’s workshop.

“I feel compelled to warn you that Mr. Stark’s workshop and the area surrounding it is restricted, so if you continue to spy, I will be forced to alert Mr. Stark to your location and activities.”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. “And then?”

“That would be up to Mr. Stark, but I suspect it might involve your expulsion from the shaft.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I would also like to remind you that you have already been given a tour of the workshop, and would likely be granted ongoing guest access privileges if you asked Mr. Stark politely.”

“You saying he doesn’t like his guests dropping in unannounced?” 

“Precisely, sir.”

“Huh. Well, I guess you’re right. I’m not really sure why I thought I needed to check this out anyway.”

“If I may make a speculation, sir, but I suspect it may involve a desire to be as thorough as possible. If you’d like, I can request you to be allowed blueprints of the building, as well as the security protocols currently in place, if you would like to review them.”

Bucky considered that as he crawled through the vents back the way he came. “Yeah, okay.”

After that, Bucky was caught twice more in similarly compromising situations, and Stark showed up at Steve and Bucky’s floor in a huff, thrusting a tablet into Bucky’s hands.

“Blueprints and security protocols,” he said, looking somehow frustrated and amused at the same time. “I’m flattered you want to take a hands-on approach to the tower, but it’d be really awkward for everyone involved if you got stuck somewhere, mmkay? And if you have any questions you should ask Pepper, not me, it’s her baby, not mine. I’m not actually an architect. I mean I could be, I just don’t care. But hey, if you change your mind about the arm, give me a call. I’m telling you, I’ve got ideas.” He shot a mock salute at Steve and was gone almost as quickly as he arrived.

With his explorations forbidden, and rightly so, Bucky started studying the blueprints and protocols during his afternoon block. But that didn’t take long, though he did compile a huge list of questions about architecture and security that he didn’t feel comfortable approaching anyone with, much less a woman as confident and assured as Pepper Potts. Instead, he fretted, then shut himself in the corner room and lay on the hardwood floor in the afternoon sun for three hours, until Steve knocked on the door asking if he still wanted to help with dinner.

It felt… really good, and warm, and restful, but also a complete waste of time. Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that doing things that weren’t necessary or completing a task were somehow prohibited--it made those types of activities sweeter for the supposed rebellion, but also tinged with bitterness, because he knew they weren’t _accomplishing_ anything. He could reason that watching movies and reading books with Steve were catching him up with history and pop culture, but sitting in the sunshine did nothing but make him feel nice. And as much as Steve insisted that was an accomplishment, Bucky couldn’t make himself see it.

 

Three weeks after Bucky moved in, Stark hired a therapist. Her name was Joanna Park, and she insisted that though she had extensive training and a handful of doctoral degrees (“but not as many as me!” Stark was quick to insist), she wasn’t anything like the doctors Bucky had been subjected to under Hydra.

Apparently Stark had actually realized that the Avengers (and friends) were, collectively, a pile of issues as tall as Everest that ordinary psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, and the like weren’t actually equipped to handle, so they needed someone special. Bucky didn’t know what made Ms. (Dr.? Ms. Dr.) Park special in that regard, but apparently she was qualified, and all the residents of the tower were strongly encouraged to meet with her once a week.

Bucky didn’t like the idea. He was nervous and anxious about it, but he knew that he needed it, maybe a little more than most, so he was one of the first to actually schedule an appointment. Bucky knew if he didn’t do it right away, he might never work up the nerve to.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that he was dreading it from the moment he signed up, but it wasn’t at all what he was expecting. Ms. Dr. Park insisted to be called Joanna, and they spent their first hour together just talking about what it was like to live in the tower (though Joanna didn’t actually live there, “I need to keep my personal life separate from my work life, or they become all the same thing,”), where Joanna was from (“San Francisco, but I haven’t been there in years,”), and what Bucky’s favorite parts of the day were (the half hour he let himself have in the corner sun room right after lunch to calm down before the appointment, talking about The Two Towers with Steve over breakfast, since they had watched it the night before).

It was nice, just taking the time to sit and talk, and Bucky didn’t even have to feel responsible for keeping the conversation going, which was what made him freeze up in most situations with people who weren’t Steve. Or JARVIS. Bucky found it easy to talk to JARVIS for some reason. But Joanna kept asking benign questions that were easy to answer, then offered her own thoughts on things, so it was never just one of them talking. Bucky came out of it feeling good, and like he’d accomplished something, and admiring Joanna a lot.

It wasn’t until their next meeting that Bucky actually brought up any concerns, and really, Joanna brought it up first.

“So it sounds like you don’t have a lot to do in the afternoons, usually,” she said. From anyone else, Bucky would have felt the weight of their judgment, whether real or imagined, but from Joanna, Bucky felt none of that.

He shrugged. “I guess I just… I want to feel like I’m accomplishing something, you know? But all I’ve done for the past seventy years is kill people. I don’t know if there’s anything I _can_ do.”

Joanna nodded, and Bucky thought she really did understand. “It’s not uncommon for people to feel the need to start over partway through their lives, for whatever reason,” she said. “It’s difficult, yes, but not impossible. Your reasoning might be different from usual, but the result is pretty much the same. So I think maybe you should try picking up a hobby, at least to start.”

“A hobby?” Stark had mentioned it before, mostly in the context of Bucky’s explorations, but Bucky hadn’t taken it seriously. Hobbies sounded so… pointless. Doing something just for the enjoyment of it didn’t have enough of a _purpose._

But Joanna was nodding and smiling. “I know it might sound silly, but it’s worth a try, especially if you look into something where you’re making something. Knitting, for example, is relaxing and centering, but also results in a useful item being created.”

Bucky found himself nodding back. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms before. He could _make_ things. God, wouldn’t that be something. After decades of death and destruction, he could _create._

“Do some research,” Joanna went on. “Try a few things. Maybe walk around for inspiration. There’s a lot out there, I know you’ll find something.”

 

There was a lot out there. Bucky started by just searching “hobbies” in Google and came up with such an overwhelming number of results that he mentally shut down and had to close his computer and walk away for a while. He waited a day to start again, but this time he ventured out into the city. New York was overwhelming in an entirely different way, but it was something Bucky thought he might be able to manage.

Except he didn’t know what he was looking for. Aimless, he ended up wandering for a couple hours until he found himself in the Bronx, at the New York Botanical Garden. One ticket later and Bucky was standing in an ornate, glass-walled conservatory with a high, delicate dome. The whole place was light and warmth and plants everywhere--green and lush and blooming in hundreds of colors.

Bucky was in awe. He walked slowly around the conservatory, brushing leaves and flowers with a gentle touch of his hand.

It wasn’t quiet--there were several other people touring the space as well, but it was peaceful, and Bucky felt about as calm and content as he could remember ever feeling.

As he looked around the lush space, so vibrantly alive, Bucky saw a gardener plucking dead leaves off of flowers. It struck him then, that these plants didn’t just appear on their own. It felt like a silly revelation, but people _cared_ for these plants. People tended them and helped them grow and be beautiful. And if _they_ could do it, and make a _living_ out of it, then maybe… maybe Bucky could do it too. Maybe it could be his hobby. The corner room in the apartment could easily become a greenhouse, a conservatory like this one, and then Bucky could have a good, practical excuse for spending time in that room.

And maybe--and Bucky was getting really excited about his train of thought now--maybe he could grow vegetables, not just flowers, and grow fresh things for him and Steve to eat. He could take care of plants and Steve at the same time.

He could be _useful._ He could help things grow. He could encourage _life_ in the world, instead of being a destroyer.

Bucky was so overwhelmed with excitement, he had to sit down. He’d found it. He had a place to start. But his mind was racing too fast, so he took a moment to calm down. He had a place to begin, but if he got carried away now, he wouldn’t be able to do anything more without getting overwhelmed again.

Bucky watched the gardener for a little while. She worked steadily, with confident, gentle hands and a calm demeanor. She’d pause to answer questions from visitors, but always picked up right where she left off.

After about twenty minutes, when Bucky had calmed down and worked up the courage, he approached her.

“Uh… hi.”

She looked up and smiled. “Hi. What can I help you with?”

Bucky swallowed nervously, though he wasn’t really sure why he was so nervous. Maybe because this felt like such a big deal to him. “I was… thinking about starting my own… planting? At home? And I was hoping… you’d know of a good place to start. For a beginner.”

“That’s great!” She beamed at him like it really was one of the best things she’d heard all day. Bucky relaxed a little. “Indoor or outdoor?”

“Indoor. I have… a room with a lot of windows, that gets good sun… and I was thinking that it could be kind of a greenhouse.”

She nodded. “It sounds like a great start, yeah. Ideally greenhouses will get direct sunlight all day, but for a beginner, that’s a good place to start. What would you like to grow?”

Bucky hesitated, then shrugged. “Flowers? Vegetables? I don’t know.”

The gardener nodded again. “It can be a little overwhelming at first. How about I give you a few websites to look at? I’ve found a few that are really great resources for beginners.” She proceeded to take a small notebook out of her back pocket and write down several websites and garden supply stores she thought would be good resources, handing it over to Bucky with a smile.

They continued to chat for a while. Once Bucky relaxed, he found it quite nice to talk plants with her, and she even gave him her work email to ask her questions if he had any.

“You should be good to go with the websites, but I’m always happy to answer gardening questions. I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you! I hope the sites are helpful.”

“Thank you. Sorry for distracting you from your job.”

Emma waved it off. “Even if it wasn’t part of my job to answer questions, I’d be doing it anyway. Besides, it was a nice break. Have a nice day! Don’t be afraid to email, okay?”

“Okay. And thanks again.”

“My pleasure, Bucky.”

 

With his resource list firmly in hand, Bucky made a beeline back to the tower, practically slamming the door behind him in his excitement. Steve was out, probably doing Avengers training or kissing babies or something, so Bucky took his computer and started researching immediately.

By the time Steve got back, Bucky had pages of notes and was starting to draft out plans for the beginnings of his greenhouse. Steve walked over and looked at the table Bucky had made a mess of with a bemused smile.

“Hey Buck, what’s all this?”

Bucky didn’t even look up from the line he was putting down on his design. “Starting a hobby. Joanna’s idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve sat down across from him and spun a loose page around to look at it. He scanned it, then looked up at Bucky. Bucky could feel his scrutiny, so he looked up to meet Steve’s gaze.

“You want to grow a garden in NYC?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“No, of course not, I’m just wondering how it’ll work.”

Bucky shrugged. “Well it’s more a greenhouse, and it’s going in the corner room.”

Steve broke into a huge, sunny smile. “Buck, that’s a _great_ idea!”

Overwhelmed by the force of Steve’s happy pride in him, Bucky ducked his head shyly and continued his drafting. “Yeah, well. I thought it would be nice.”

“I think it’s perfect, Bucky. Do you know what you’re going to grow yet?”

Bucky pointed at another sheet of paper, which Steve picked up. It was a list of starter plants--vegetables mostly, but also some hanging flowers and ferns.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away.”

“What’s that you’re drawing?”

“Plans for risers and stuff.”

“Risers?”

“You know, to put the plants on.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah.”

They fell into silence for a bit as Bucky worked and Steve watched.

“This is really great, Buck,” Steve said softly and in that tone of voice that Bucky knew if he looked up he’d see that proud look again. He kept his head down.

“Yeah, well. I needed something to do.”

“You… need any help?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not right now.”

“You’ll let me know if you do?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Silence again, but it felt comfortable. Still, Bucky looked up. Steve was smiling at him. Bucky felt a warmth under his skin, and he ducked his head again.

“So why plants?” Steve asked, curious.

Bucky shrugged. “I went to the Botanical Garden, and… I guess I was inspired. It was… nice, to be surrounded by so many growing things. So much life. I liked it a lot.” He looked up again to check Steve’s reaction. He was nodding, like he was actually thinking about what Bucky said. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure his rambling merited that much consideration, but Steve was always willing to think deeply about Bucky’s words, when they were being serious.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Steve said.

Bucky blinked, surprised. “It does?”

“Sure. It sounds really peaceful. I hope starting your own garden here works out. I’d like to see what you’re talking about for myself.”

“Well if it doesn’t work out, I could always just take you to the Bronx.”

“Yeah, but having it here would add a personal touch.” He stood up. “Seriously, if you need help just shout, alright? And what do you want for dinner?”

Bucky looked at the clock. He hadn’t really fully understood how much time he’d spent researching and sketching until Steve mentioned dinner.

Steve put out a hand, sensing Bucky’s growing panic. “Whoa, it’s okay, keep working. I can take care of dinner. Maybe you can get enough done to order supplies from JARVIS and we can get to building this week, huh?”

A little taken aback, Bucky could only nod.

Steve grinned. “Great. How about spaghetti and meatballs? I’ve got a craving for garlic bread.”

Bucky nodded mutely, and Steve went off to the kitchen to get started.

Bucky sat back in his chair. He hadn’t really thought Steve would… _disapprove,_ necessarily, he just hadn’t been prepared for how _enthusiastic_ about it Steve was. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. It _wasn’t_ a surprise. And yet Bucky was thrown into confusion.

He watched Steve in the kitchen for a bit. He didn’t get to often, since usually he was right there with Steve, but it was… nice. Steve moved confidently, like a man who had no questions about who he was, where he was going, and what he was doing. Like a man who didn’t question himself at every moment.

Bucky knew that wasn’t true all the time. Steve had his appointments with Joanna just like Bucky did, but for now… for now, Steve was happy. Confident.

Bucky looked down at his notes, and wondered if this gardening stuff would be what got him to that place. He took a moment to think about it. Was he happy? He wasn’t sure. But he was calm, and he’d spent the entire afternoon without once worrying about what time it was or whether he’d wasted the day, so… it was a start. Whatever it was, it was a start.

 

“Sergeant Barnes, I should warn you that Mr. Stark is on his way, and I sincerely doubt he intends to knock.”

“Thank you, JARVIS. I promise I won’t throw a hammer at him.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

Sure enough, Tony charged through the door a minute later, followed by Steve, who was loudly voicing his disapproval at the intrusion.

“Tony, if you surprise him…”

“If I know JARVIS, he’s already announced my arrival, there’s nothing to surprise. Hey, Robocop. What’s this about you building things in _my_ tower without telling me about it? I’m insulted.”

Bucky didn’t even look up from where he was putting the finishing touches on his first set of risers. “It’s not a robot, Tony. I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Excuse you, I am interested in many things other than robots, says my five doctorates. C’mon, shiny, what’s the project? JARVIS won’t tell me. So spill.”

“What if I told you it was none of your business and you should scram?”

“I’d ignore you, and like the petulant five year old Pepper’s always telling me I am, I would continue to ask until you told me out of annoyance.”

“Well at least he’s self-aware,” Steve muttered, but Bucky could tell from his tone that he wasn’t really upset. It probably helped that Bucky hadn’t made any moves to kick Tony out yet.

Bucky set his tools down and spread his arms, indicating his workspace in the corner room and the now finished risers. “You’re the genius, what does it look like to you?”

Tony finally took a good look around, noting the risers, the supplies to make more, the pots, the bags of soil, the stands to hold up hanging plants, the rubber mats for the floor, and Bucky could tell when it all clicked.

“My God, he’s building a greenhouse.”

“Ding ding, he’s got it,” Bucky said, standing up and shoving the risers into place.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Tony asked, clearly affronted by the situation.

Bucky shrugged and glanced over at Steve, who was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching. “I only decided to do it a couple days ago, Tony, it’s not like I’ve been working on this plan for weeks.”

“Still. I could’ve designed a whole system for you. You want automatic watering? Air flow regulation? Light meters?”

“Tony…” Steve said warningly.

_“What?”_

“I just want to do this myself,” Bucky said quietly, and Tony actually shut up for a second at that. “I appreciate the offer, really, but the whole idea of this is that… it’s something _I_ do. For me. On my own.”

Tony blinked, then looked to Steve, who shrugged and nodded. “He hasn’t let me help yet either.”

“Huh,” Tony said, oddly dumbstruck.

“I promise I’ll let you know if I need something,” Bucky said, and that seemed to satisfy Tony enough for the moment.

“Well alright. But if you try to pull any funny business on the tower, I’m going to have JARVIS tattle on you.”

“Duly noted,” Bucky said. “Now go do your own work or something, I don’t like spectators. Shoo.”

Tony lifted his hands in surrender and backed out.

Steve looked surprised as the elevator doors slid shut behind Tony. “I’m amazed he left that easily. I was sure he’d insist on building everything for you.”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s a mechanic at heart. I think he understands the need to get your hands dirty and do something on your own.”

Steve nodded, and Bucky waved his hammer at him. “Anyway, you get out too, I want to get the other set of risers done today and I meant what I said about no spectators.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve grinned, and retreated out of the room, leaving Bucky by himself once more.

“Hey JARVIS,” he said, as he started pulling his supplies together.

“Yes, sir?”

“You got any pop music I could listen to?”

“I have access to all music ever recorded and made available, Sergeant Barnes. Is there anything in particular you’d like to listen to?”

“Can you play me stuff like Taylor Swift?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

As the first bars of “Shake It Off” started to play, Bucky smiled and got to work, humming along.

 

When all the mats were unrolled, the risers and stands assembled, and the pots lined up, the room really started to look like a greenhouse.

But there weren’t any plants yet.

That was a problem.

Bucky couldn’t decide if he wanted to buy seedlings already growing and repot them or if he wanted to plant them himself. On the one hand, he was impatient. He wanted to have vegetables and flowers _now._

But on the other, he wanted to feel like he had full ownership over the plants. He wanted them to be well and truly _his,_ not some plants he had bought and started taking care of. It was a ridiculous distinction, but when he brought it up with Joanna, she seemed to understand.

“You spent a very long time not being allowed to have anything of your own. It might feel selfish, but I think you should embrace it. You’re already making this greenhouse yours, why not the plants too?”

“You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“I think it’s perfectly reasonable. You’re a smart, compassionate man, I think you can afford to be a little possessive in this case.”

“Just don’t let it get out of control, right?”

“Bucky, it’s your greenhouse. You built it for yourself, you’re planting for yourself, it’s yours. You get to decide how you feel about it and what you do with it. Nobody else. Get possessive, if that’s what you want. It’s no one’s business but yours.”

Bucky had already been keeping it his own business. He knew it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. But there was still a part of him that worried. A part of him that was searching for any way this project could have been _wrong._

Anything that might merit some kind of punishment.

He didn’t like that part of himself.

But after thinking through it for several days and researching options, Bucky settled on buying seeds. He could quell his impatience. He wanted to grow everything himself. He wanted to be the one to bring these plants to life. He wanted to be the sole person responsible.

It did feel selfish, and it probably was. But the thought of being the one person to grow an entire greenhouse of plants from seed to flowering was satisfying in a way he couldn’t quite describe. In a way he couldn’t remember feeling in years.

 

The next several days were full of dirt. Bucky’s fingernails were perpetually dirty as he filled pot after pot with soil and seeds. It was calming work--repetitive, but satisfying. It was nice, all this work with his hands. Granted, cleaning dirt out from the grooves of his metal arm was a pain in the ass, but it was worth it to see all the rows of pots sitting on his risers and hanging from the stands. It was hands-on work that he could see the results of, and it felt good.

Bucky paused in his work one day and realized he felt happy.

 

Unfortunately, once the planting was done, all Bucky could do was water and wait. He read his resources over and over, but most of the tips on what to do at that point were in reference to bugs and animals and weeds--all things he wouldn’t have to worry about in his high-rise indoor greenhouse. JARVIS was regulating the air quality and temperature, and there was very little for Bucky to do otherwise.

He was restless, and it was clearly bugging the hell out of Steve. Bucky didn’t realize he was pacing until Steve started throwing crumpled balls of paper at him. The first one hit him squarely on the side of the face, but Bucky saw the next one coming and was able to dodge.

“What the hell, Steve?”

“Stop pacing, your plant babies are fine.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but quickly realized the futility of it. He flopped onto the couch next to Steve with a sigh. “Well what am I supposed to do?” he whined.

“Stay right there. Be my model.”

“Model, huh.” Bucky peeked over at Steve. “You drawing again?”

Steve nodded. He was sketching broad strokes with his pencil. “You kind of inspired me.”

Bucky blinked. “I did?”

“Yeah, your greenhouse. You’ve been throwing yourself into it, and I can see how much it’s helping you. So I was thinking--what can I do like that?” He shrugged. “You’ve been bugging me to draw again anyway, so. I figured I’d give it a shot.”

Bucky tried to swallow down the sudden welling up of emotion, afraid it would overwhelm him. “So… how’s it going?”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “It’s been a while. I gotta get the hang of it again. Maybe having a model will help.”

“Yeah?” Bucky slumped down and arranged himself in what he hoped was an artful pose. “How’s this?”

“Perfect. Now hold still.”

Bucky fell asleep.

 

Bucky woke up to the smell of food.

“Is that pizza?”

“Yeah, I was going to make dinner, but then I decided I didn’t feel like it, so I ordered.” Steve was using that tone of voice he used when he wasn’t ashamed of his decision, but was worried he might get flak for it, so was overly defensive to balance it out.

Bucky stretched, not in the mood to get confrontational even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. “Yeah, sure. How long did I sleep?”

“Two hours.” Steve had backed off the defensive tone, sounding a bit relieved instead. “You looked comfortable, so I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Get any good art out of it?”

Steve blushed a little. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

Bucky nodded, satisfied. They ate pizza and watched "Beauty and the Beast," and Bucky cried, and Steve didn’t say anything about it, just held Bucky’s hand.

 

It wasn’t until the plants could be measured in inches that Natasha showed up at the greenhouse. Bucky was getting used to visitors--Stark had been by a few times to discuss environmental controls and lobby ideas of a rooftop garden with Bucky, even though Bucky didn’t think he was ready for that yet. He’d told Stark to put a pin in that idea. They’d come back to it if the greenhouse worked out. 

Clint had stopped in because he wanted to eat something Bucky had grown, and was somehow disappointed anew every day he stopped in and Bucky told him again that it’d be weeks before anything was ready.

Bruce had stopped by a couple of times to ask about varietals and different flowers and see how things were growing in the space. 

But Natasha hadn’t even brought it up in a conversation until she stopped in while Bucky was reading in the chair he had set up in the corner.

JARVIS warned him he was about to get a visitor, as usual, since Bucky really hated being surprised by anyone. He was pretty sure everyone knew the AI was announcing their arrivals, but Natasha knocked anyway.

“Come on in,” Bucky said, and bookmarked his page in _Night Watch_ in time to see Natasha enter.

She smiled at him briefly and turned her attention to the greenhouse. Bucky watched her as she walked up and down the rows, examining the plants and reading the hand-drawn labels Steve had made for them and installed a couple days earlier.

They were silent for a good five minutes while Natasha made her tour, which ended when she stood in front of Bucky.

“It’s nice,” she said softly.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah.”

“You like it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Does it help?”

Bucky thumbed the pages of his book idly while he considered that, and what Natasha was saying without actually saying it. Their conversations often went like that, with words swimming underneath the surface of what they actually said.

“Yeah, it does,” he finally said. “Working with them… just being around them, it’s… calming, I guess. Settles my head in a way nothing else really does.”

Natasha looked thoughtful. “They need you to care for them,” she said slowly, “but they won’t judge you.”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure. That works.”

“Is that not right?”

“No, I just don’t really care why it works, just that it does.”

Natasha nodded. She was quiet for a moment before she smiled. “It suits you.”

Bucky was a little surprised by that. “Does it?”

She nodded again. “You’re smiling more. Have you noticed? Real smiles. You’re happier. At peace.”

Bucky hadn’t noticed.

“I’m glad you’ve found something,” Natasha said.

“Have you? Found something?”

Natasha shook her head. “I don’t need anything.”

Bucky frowned. “Have you been seeing Joanna at least?”

Natasha laughed. “There’s nothing she can say that will help me.”

That made Bucky mad. He stood, glaring at Natasha, who, surprisingly, took a defensive step back instead of holding her ground.

“Would you let me say that about myself?” he asked, steel in his voice.

She frowned back. “No.”

“Steve? Clint? Bruce?”

“No, but…”

“But what? What makes you so special?”

“I don’t… play well with therapists.”

“So figure it out. You’re good at that.”

Natasha’s face went carefully blank, and Bucky knew he’d hit a nerve. He wasn’t about to apologize.

“Thanks for letting me see your greenhouse, James,” she said, and left.

Bucky sighed and sat back down. He knew he’d probably crossed a line, but he didn’t regret it. Natasha was probably the most functional out of all of them, but quite possible also the one most in need of some kind of help, and definitely the last to ever ask for it. They were all loners, in their own way, and resisted showing or admitting weakness of any kind. But Bucky knew better than most how the Red Room had punished its students for ever relying on anyone or allowing weakness to hinder them.

Getting Natasha to Joanna would be one hell of a miracle--if she actually opened up to Joanna it would be another, impossible miracle.

But that wasn’t Bucky’s fight, and couldn’t be. He had to focus on himself, and that was okay. He hoped Natasha would come around. He’d said his piece. The rest was up to her.

 

When some of Bucky’s plants started budding, Steve had to pull Bucky out of the greenhouse to keep him from spending every minute just watching his plants and waiting for them to bloom.

“C’mon Buck, let’s go for a walk,” was his most common and best tactic. Bucky liked walks, usually because Steve made a point to go exploring areas of the city they hadn’t been before, at least in this century. At first it did a number on Bucky’s hypervigilance, and if he was completely honest, Bucky still struggled with it a lot, but Steve did a good job of setting a target for the walk, which helped a lot. Steve would find some store, cafe, restaurant, historical marker, museum, or other point of interest, and they made visiting the purpose of that trip. Sometimes they’d take the subway, but usually they walked the whole way, taking their time and stopping any place that looked interesting along the way.

Steve was doing lots of research, and could usually tell Bucky little stories about the history of a place--who’d owned it in the past, what kinds of places it had been before, whether it had any historical significance. Bucky could tell Steve really liked knowing the stories behind people and places, and it was nice to hear Steve relay information in a way that was interesting and fun.

“Is this your thing now?” Bucky asked one walk. “History?”

Steve shrugged. “Sure. I think art is still a thing of mine too, but yeah. I really like learning about the kinds of things that make a person or place what it is--stuff people don’t really pay attention to.”

“Like with us?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, all most people seem to care about is Captain America and the Winter Soldier--symbolism and political context and whatever. They don’t really bother learning about who we are as people, right?”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“There’s a guy,” Bucky said quickly, wanting to get the idea out but afraid Steve might not like it, “who goes around and takes pictures of New Yorkers. Then he posts the pictures and a little story the person tells him about their lives online. He calls it Humans of New York. Maybe… maybe you could do something like that. Draw pictures and tell stories about the way places were and who’s been there.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, and Bucky worried that Steve disliked the idea after all but didn’t know how to break it to Bucky. But he surprised Bucky by smiling broadly.

“You know, Buck, I really like that. I’ll give it a try.”

 

It was important, Bucky decided, for everyone to have a thing apart from being Avengers or whatever. Bucky wasn’t an Avenger, and he never would be. He never wanted to do any of that ever again, so it was especially important for him to have his thing. Which was gardening, apparently. His greenhouse was coming along wonderfully--flowers were blooming and vegetables were growing, and Bucky was happier than he could ever remember being. He had a purpose that he had given himself, that was entirely opposed to everything Hydra had set out to make him.

Steve had started his blog, and though it didn’t have that many readers just yet, Steve didn’t care. He was content telling stories that wouldn’t be told otherwise, getting to know people and places and carving out his own place in their new century by marrying the past with the present.

Tony had his engineering, and helping his friends. Bruce had his science, Clint had… whatever it was that he did, Bucky didn’t actually know. Natasha was the only person who didn’t seem to have a thing of her own, but Bucky caught her dancing in one of the training rooms one day and he decided she’d be all right.

 

Two months after starting his greenhouse, Bucky brought a bouquet of flowers he’d grown to his appointment with Joanna. She beamed at it, and at Bucky, and Bucky felt a swell of happiness and pride at what he’d done, and how it had made someone happy.

“These are beautiful, Bucky. Thank you so much!” She immediately put them in a vase and on a table by the window, where they could be seen by anyone spending time in the office. It was a place of pride, and Bucky felt sheepishly pleased at the placement. “So I guess we can say the greenhouse is a success?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know, it just feels… right. LIke… this is mine. It’s proof I can be someone and do something that’s all my own, that no one else decided for me. And I can do it! I don’t need anyone telling me what to do.” He leaned back into his chair with a sigh. “It’s… a relief, honestly. I feel like… whenever I have doubts about myself, all I have to do is go into the greenhouse and I’m reminded that… I am who I choose to be, I guess.”

Joanna nodded emphatically. “That’s great, Bucky. I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky smiled down at his hands, still a little dirty from that morning’s pruning. “I know it’s not the end,” he said softly. “There is no end, really. It’s like the plants--they’re always growing, always changing. And if… if I can think of myself like that, and let myself take care of myself like that, and let others take care of me too… then things are going to be okay. There’ll be good days and bad days, but it’ll be okay.”

Joanna smiled. “I think that’s a very good place to be, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded, and smiled at the flowers he’d planted and grown all by himself.

“Yeah, I think so, too.”


End file.
